


it’s a slippery slope, darling, (and it’s all downhill from here)

by tangentiallly



Category: A Series of Unfortunate Events - Lemony Snicket
Genre: Don’t copy to another site, F/F, philosophical debates in the shower, preludes to shower sex, vaguely hinted dramatic irony
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-10
Updated: 2019-10-10
Packaged: 2020-12-07 10:42:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20974598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tangentiallly/pseuds/tangentiallly
Summary: “You’re willing to put your organization’s need in front of a friend’s need today, what would you be willing to do tomorrow? Steal from them? Frame them for a crime one of your precious volunteer committed? It’s a slippery slope, Beatrice darling.”“You’rea slippery slope. And I’m sliding down that slope, sweetheart.”





	it’s a slippery slope, darling, (and it’s all downhill from here)

**Author's Note:**

> disclaimer: I don't own ASOUE

The hot water of shower rained down on them both. Recently, it’s gradually becoming the perfect place for having thoughtful philosophical debates, amongst other things.

“This is a slippery slope,” Esme said archly, her eyes catching Beatrice’s through the steam challengingly, “have you thought about that? You’re willing to put your organization’s need in front of a friend’s need today, what would you be willing to do tomorrow? Steal from them? Frame them for a crime one of your precious volunteer committed?” She reached out a hand to play with bubbles on Beatrice’s hair, “It’s a slippery slope, Beatrice darling.”

Beatrice looked at her, and then in turn placed her hand on Esme’s collarbone, her fingers lightly dancing over it before her arm began to drop, the fingers slowly tracing down Esme’s body along the water, and stopping just above her belly button. “_You’re_ a slippery slope,” Beatrice replied, looking right back at Esme’s eyes equally challengingly, her voice a soft drawl. “And I’m sliding down that slope, sweetheart.”

Beatrice was drawing circles around Esme’s belly button, her caress soft and casual, though Esme suspected there was a certain degree of calculation in the casualness. When it came to Beatrice, Esme felt like there was always a certain degree of calculation hidden. Admittedly, that’s what made Beatrice so enchanting and fascinating, and made Esme unable to stay away. Esme could feel her abdomen tense up a little in anticipation, and there’s a weird, warm, tingling feeling - but maybe that’s just the hot water. It was hard to tell, really. Esme raised an eyebrow, “I know you are,” she commented loftily. Slyly. “The question, though, I suppose, is how far down are you willing to slide, isn’t it,_ darling_?”

“Hmm,” Beatrice hummed, sliding her fingers down just a little more. “Are you sure that’s the right question?”

Esme closed in her distance with Beatrice, head dipping down to plant a kiss on Beatrice’s right cheek. Her lips lingered a little longer than she planned, and then she drew back slowly as she gave Beatrice a sharp grin. “Well, _you_ tell _me_.”

“Life is full of unknowns. A conundrum of esoterica, if you will.” Beatrice answered promptly. “But I think even slippery slopes have to end _somewhere_, don’t they? There’s always a bottom line.” Her fingers went an inch lower. “Even if we couldn’t always see them. Even if we don’t know where the line is - it has to be there.”

“Literally, perhaps,” Esme acknowledged, feeling her breath hitching a little. She hoped Beatrice hadn’t heard it. The showers were loud, after all. She probably didn’t. “Every literal slope ends somewhere, that’s for sure, but what about the figurative ones, hmm?”

“Well, I would say,” Beatrice murmured, her voice soft. “That there are enough literal problems to worry about and therefore hardly any time to worry about the figurative ones.” Still keeping one hand on Esme’s belly, she reached out another to cup Esme’s chin lightly - or rather, hand perhaps wasn’t the most accurate description, as she simply held onto Esme’s chin with her index finger and middle finger. Beatrice was short, and therefore didn’t exactly have a large hand nor long fingers, but somehow, mysteriously - at least in Esme’s opinion - Beatrice was still able to easily pulled Esme’s whole face towards her, until there were barely any space between their faces.

“Never thought you to be the practical type,” Esme managed respond, staring right into Beatrice’s eyes which were now _ridiculously_ close. Esme could see every little single detail she hadn’t paid attention to before. They were dark and deep and mysterious, like midnights, perhaps. Or an abyss. If you stared into an abyss it would stare back, or something like that, probably. Esme had never been good with literature. “Imagine my surprise, darling. You of all people, worrying about literal problems rather than figurative ones?”

“I am full of surprises,” Beatrice smiled radiantly. Her lips were pulling up, and Esme found herself admiring the shape of Beatrice’s lips. They looked so full. Soft and full. Almost like an invitation to bite onto them. They were figuratively dismantling each and every one of Esme’s ability to have a moral argument and debates in the middle of a shower just by simply existing. Well, at least Beatrice wasn’t pouting right now. Because Esme had seen Beatrice pout before, and frankly, she didn’t think she would be able to still process any other thoughts if Beatrice were to do that right now.

It was alarming, the effects Esme allowed Beatrice to have on her, if she were to think too deeply about this situation.

“That you are,” Esme agreed, drawing in a sharp breath. “But back to the question though, darling. How much down do you think you will be going?”

Beatrice shrugged a little, her shoulders bumping into Esme’s in the process due to their proximity. Nobody ever told Esme that shoulder blades lightly hitting each other could create such an odd, almost fun feeling. “I guess we’ll just have to,” she paused, her fingers originally on Esme’s lower belly dropping down even more that they were no longer on her belly. “Find out as we go.”

It’s a slippery slope, and perhaps all downhill from here, Esme thought, before sensations took over her brain and all coherent thoughts disappeared.

**Author's Note:**

> [come say hi on tumblr](https://beatricebidelaire.tumblr.com)


End file.
